


221B - Patton Watson

by CombineTheKitchens



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Night Terrors, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sherlock AU, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 06:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21794233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CombineTheKitchens/pseuds/CombineTheKitchens
Summary: Logan as Holmes, Patton as Watson. What could possibly go wrong?
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Creativity | Roman & Logic | Logan & Morality | Patton, Logic | Logan Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TW: nightmares, PTSD, gun mention, bomb mention, war mention

In the early morning hours, a man shot awake shaking and crying. He tugged at his hair. 

“It’s just a dream. I’m okay. I’m home. I’m not there anymore,” he whispered frantically. The loud booms of the guns and the bombs rang inside his head. 

The man removed himself from his little bed and moved to his desk. He stared at the blank screen on his open laptop. He sighed and closed the tab on the website he was supposed to be blogging on. 

The man decided against eating breakfast. He got himself dressed, grabbed his cane, and left the house. 

Walking through the unfamiliar distracted the man from his thoughts. He made a mental map of every street, bench, and building. 

“Patton? Is that you, Patton Watson?” a voice rang out from one of the benches. Patton turned and saw a heavyweight man waving to him. “It’s Mike! Mike Stamford. From university, ‘member?” Patton nodded and walked over.

“Yes, yes, sorry, hi. Mike, I remember you”

“Yeah, I’ve gotten fat, I know” Mike laughed. Patton chuckled awkwardly. “How you been? It’s been a while. I heard you were off fightin’” 

“Ah, uh, yea. I, um, I got shot,” Patton replied in a raspy, unused voice. Mike gasped.

“Is that why you got the?” he gestured to the cane, to which Patton nodded again. Mike smiled pitifully and tapped the bench. “Sit with me.” Patton obeyed and sat next to his old classmate.

“So, where you livin’ at?” Patton pointed in the direction of his small apartment. “All the way ova there? Ain’t ya got a flatmate? I woulda thought you would at least live with Harry,” Mike spoke, barely giving Patton the chance to answer.

“I haven’t spoken to Harry in months. And come on. Who’d wanna live with me? An overly emotional idiot veteran with PTSD,” Patton asked sarcastically. 

Mike laughed, “Ya know, you’re the second person to say that to me.”

“Who was the first?”

Patton followed Mike into a room filled with all sorts of lab equipment. He didn’t notice a man looking at him through a test tube filled with a clear liquid. 

“It’s a bit different from my day,” Patton remarked. 

“Mike, may I use your cell?” the man asked, gaining Patton’s attention.

“Why not use the landline?” 

“Hm, I prefer to text,” he grumbled. 

“It’s in my coat,” Mike apologised, shrugging. 

“Here. You can use mine,” Patton pulled his cell from his jacket pocket and handed it to the man.

“Ah, thank you. Afghanistan or Iraq?” he asked, typing quickly to someone.

“Sorry, what?” 

“Afghanistan. How did you?” Patton looked to Mike who smirked.

The man returned the phone and moved back to the liquid. “I play the violin at odd hours of the night,” he stated. “Sometimes I don’t talk for days on end. Would that bother you?” Patton just stared at him, incredibly confused. “Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other.”

“Who? Who said anything about flatmates?” 

“I did,” Logan stated, beginning to back up his belongings. He put on a trench coat and scarf. “I told Mike this morning I would be a hard person to find a flatmate for and here he is back again after lunch with an old friend. Wasn’t too hard to connect.”

Patton stared at the man in disbelief and awe. “So that’s it? We only just met and you’d like to look at a flat?”

“Well, yes. Is there a problem? It’s a good enough size and we likely could afford it together.”

“I don’t know where we’re going, I don’t know when, and I don’t even know your name.”

“I know you’re an army doctor just returned from fighting overseas. I know you have a brother but you won’t go to him for help, probably because you don’t approve of his drinking. Did I get everything?” The man smirked, knowing that he did.

“The place is 221B Baker Street. 3:00 pm. My name is Logan Holmes.” He opened the door of the lab. “Afternoon!” Logan called to Mike before leaving. Patton looked to Mike with wide eyes. He laughed and nodded. 

“Yup. He’s always like that.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suicide mention, death mention, mild language, a human skull

Patton looked at the flat in front of him and then up and down the street. He made it to the address right on time, but Logan was nowhere to be seen. An elderly man popped his head of the building door. 

“Can I help you, dear?” he asked with a high pitched old man voice. 

“I’m waiting for Logan Holmes. I’m supposed to be looking at a flat with him.” 

The old man gasped, “Logan is coming today? So soon? Are you the young man he’s dating?” Patton flushed and sputtered.

“W-wh-what? N-no, no! We just met!” 

The old man pouted, “Why else would you be moving in together? Kids are so weird nowadays.” Patton sighed and was about to explain but he was cut off by a monotone voice.

“Ah, Mister Sanders!”

The old man, Mister Sanders grinned. “Logan!” He ran forward for a hug, to which Logan reciprocated with a faint smile. 

“I see you have met Doctor Watson.”

“Oh. yes! He’s very small, Logan. Is he the little spoon?” Logan laughed but didn’t answer the question. “Come in, Come in!” Mister Sanders insisted, grabbing both men’s arms and trying to pull them into the building. Patton smiled at his attempts.

The group climbed up the stairs and entered the flat. Patton wrinkled his nose at the clutter that filled the living room and kitchen.

“This looks good. Very nice.”

“Yes. Yes, my thoughts exactly,” Logan replied. “Once we finish moving in.”

“Just gotta get this mess out of here.”

Both men looked at each other, Logan with an embarrassed smile. 

“I guess I can move things around.” Patton pointed at something on the fireplace.

“A skull?”

“He’s a friend of mine,” Logan retorted quickly. 

“Logan,” Mister Sanders scolded, “look at the mess you made.” The old man went to go clean up all the lab equipment Logan had placed on the dining table and counters. 

“This place is really nice. Can we afford it together?” Patton asked as he moved around, observing. 

“Mister Sanders owes me a favour. His husband got in some trouble in the states and was sentenced to death,” Logan answered in his monotone voice.

“You got his husband off death row?” Patton spun around to look at him

“Oh no. I ensured it.” Logan gave Patton a sly smile and turned to the window. “Have you been reading the papers?” Patton nodded.

“I have. Three suicides all the same. It’s very peculiar.”

“Four,” Logan mumbled. “There’s been a fourth. And there’s something different.”

Patton then heard footsteps rushing up the stairs. A man in a black jacket and purple hair entered the flat. 

“Where?” Logan demanded, not looking away from the window.

“Lauriston Gardens. You know how they never leave notes? This one did.” The man sounded more like a boy despite his strict expression. “Will you be coming in in my car?”

Logan finally turned. “I’ll take a cab. Who’s on forensics?”

“Anderson.”

“Anderson won’t work with me.”

“He won’t be your assistant! Just meet me there in twenty.” The man then turned and left. Logan stood silent for a few seconds before jumping and cheering. 

“Four suicides! This day just got so interesting!” Patton stared at Logan with a furrowed brow. Logan grabbed his trench coat off the couch and ran out the door. Mister Sanders emerged from the kitchen.

“Oh, look at him dashing about.” He moved his gaze to Patton. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll make you some tea.” The old man directed Patton to one of the two seats near the fireplace and pushed him in it. “Rest your leg, dearie.”

“Damn my leg!” Patton shouted before covering his mouth. “I am so sorry. It’s just this damn thing,” he tapped his leg with his cane for emphasis. 

“It’s alright, pumpkin. I’ve got a hip. I’m only doing this once. I’m your landlord, not your housekeeper.”

“Maybe some biscuits too?” Patton suggested, grabbing and reading the newspaper that was on the coffee table. 

“Not your housekeeper,” Mister Sanders insisted as he was setting up a plate of biscuits. Patton read until Logan came back into the flat. 

“You were an army doctor,” he stated. Patton stood and found his balance.

“Yes, that is correct.”

“Any good?”

“Very.”

“And I’m sure you’ve seen many violent deaths?” 

“Enough for a lifetime.”

“Want to see some more?”

“Oh god, yes,” Patton whispered. He grabbed his own coat and followed Logan out the door. “I’ll skip the tea, thank you! I’m going out!”

Mister Sanders ran out of the kitchen to see the men leave. “The both of you?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: alcohol mention, death mention, serial killer mention, pills, poison, vomit mention, inappropriate comments, cursing, adultery mention, murder, army mention

The taxi ride was going to be a long one, so Patton decided to make conversation. 

“Yesterday you asked me ‘Afghanistan or Iraq’. How did you?” he trailed off. Logan clicked his tongue. 

“I see. You are tanned but not above your sleeves or ankles. The way you hold yourself clearly says, soldier. Not to mention your haircut when long hair suits you more. And of course, there’s what you said when you walked into the room. You’ve been overseas but not sunbathing. You trained at Barts. Blatant army doctor. Any other questions?”

“So you know all this by…”

“By seeing.”

Patton nodded slowly. “Okay, what about-,”

“Harry? Why, your phone, of course. His name is engraved as well as ‘From Clara’. Now, this is where it gets interesting. You have nowhere else to live but with a complete stranger. You obviously don’t have any extended family that would be willing to house you. This phone is a fairly new model, barely six months old. A young one’s expensive gadget, so not your father. 

“Clara, who seems to be his wife, gifted it to Harry and Harry gave it away. They are getting a divorce and he left her. Otherwise, he would have kept it. Sentiment and feelings or whatever.

“The condition of such a nice gadget is telling of the fact that Harry did not appreciate it. Scratches and cracks. He gave it to you because he wants you to keep in touch. But you refuse. Why? Well, as said previously, you don’t care for his drinking.”

Patton asked in confusion, “How can you possibly know about the drinking?” Logan then began to show him the scratches around the charging point due to the shaky hands of a drunk. “That’s incredible!”

“It is?” Logan inquired. This was a new reaction. Patton nodded with a bright smile. “Usually I’m told to piss off,” he hummed. Patton chuckled, covering his mouth. “Did I get everything right?”

“Just quite. Harry is short for Harriett.”

“She’s your sister! Damn.”

“So where are we going? I assume it’s to help with a crime? I’d say you were an amateur had you not told me all that.” 

“Ah, yes, well I am a consulting detective. I invented the job. The only one in the world.” Logan’s voice was proud, for good reason.

“That’s so impressive!” Patton cheered. Logan preened under the praise. It was clear he rarely got any.

They soon pulled up to the crime scene. Logan helped Patton out of the taxi and led him to the yellow police tape blocking the street. A woman stopped them before they could go through. 

“Oh great. The Freak is here,” she snarled. Logan merely rolled his eyes.

“Yes, always a pleasure, Sally. If you’ll excuse me, Detective Inspector Lestrade asked for me.” He ducked under the tape and held it up for Patton. As the smaller moved to go through, Sally stopped them again.

“Ah, Ah. Who’s this?”

“My colleague.”

Sally looked Patton up and down and chuckled darkly.

“A colleague. How do you get a colleague?”

“Maybe I should stay back-,” Patton began, biting his lip. Logan cut him off with a sharp ‘no’ and waved him through the tape. 

Logan kept his hand on the small of Patton’s back, leading him through the crowd of police and investigators. At the door, the purple-haired man from before stood with a sour-looking scientist. Without a second glance, Logan passed by them. The scientist took Patton’s arm and held him back. 

“He doesn’t have friends, y’know. Never will. He gets off at murders. More gruesome, the better for him. One day, he might put the body there. Simply because he was bored.”

The purple-haired man smacked the scientist over the head and hurried Patton inside. 

“Don’t listen to him. They all hate Logan because he’s my favourite. Don’t tell him that. I’m Detective Inspector Virgil Lestrade. You are?” He spoke so fast and quiet, Patton could barely hear him.

“Um, Doctor Patton Watson,” he stuttered out. Virgil hummed in acknowledgement. He handed Patton a plastic contamination suit and put one on himself. Then they started walking again.

“He wouldn’t invite just anyone here. His work is his life. You must be special.”

They turned into an empty room. Logan was already there inspecting the dead body dressed head to toe in pink clothes on the floor. His head whipped around. 

“Shut up.”

“No one said anything,” Virgil snarked.

“You’re thinking too loud, it’s distracting. Shut up.”

“Yea, okay, well you’ve got five minutes. Any longer and Anderson would throw a tantrum.” 

Logan rolled his eyes and continued doing whatever it is that he does. After a couple of minutes, he stood up.

“Got anything?” Patton asked softly.

“Not much.” Understatement of the century. Anderson walked in and leaned just outside the doorway.

“Rache. Means Revenge in German,” he pointed to what the corpse had scratched into the floorboards before dying. Logan slammed the door in his face.

“Yes thank you for that wonderful input.”

Virgil crossed his arms. “I don’t have much time, I’ll take anything.”

Logan went on to explain that they were writing Rachel, where they came from, how long they’ve been in the city, why they were here, and the size and colour of the suitcase. He argued with Virgil about the suitcase after telling Patton to inspect the body. Patton sighed and pulled Logan to the side.

“What am I doing here?”

“Finding the cause of death. Wasn’t that obvious?”

“No I mean,” he groaned, “Why me? Why am I here?”

“Oh. To help me prove a point.”

“I am supposed to be helping with rent,” Patton hissed back.

“Yes, but this is more fun.”

“_ Fun? _ Logan, there is a dead body!”

Logan looked at the body and back at Patton with a blank face.

“Yes, we already established that. But I was hoping you would be more specific.”

Patton rolled his eyes and knelt down. 

“Choked on her vomit. Possibly seizure or drugs.”

“You’ve read the papers, I assume?”

“They’re one of the suicides,” Patton realised.

Virgil interrupted, “Logan, there is no case anywhere in this building!” The detective’s eyes went wide with fear or joy, Patton couldn’t tell. Logan ran out of the room and down the stairs, yelling for anyone to tell him if they’ve seen a suitcase.

“Logan!” Virgil shouted, “No case at all!”

“But they take the poison themselves. They swallow the pills themselves, there are clear signs - even you lot couldn’t miss them, despite your funny little brains,” Logan muttered to himself. Virgil rubbed his temples. 

“Yes, thanks. And?”

“It’s murder. Every last one. I don’t know how it’s done, but this is the work of a serial killer! The most fascinating criminal!” Logan was getting more and more excited with each sentence. Patton stepped forward. 

“Logan? Why do you say that?”

“The case! This person was a serial adulterer - they wouldn’t just leave their suitcase with their phone!”

“Maybe they got to their hotel and checked in?” Patton asked again.

“You think someone who dresses as that person did would never leave somewhere with their hair and makeup like-,” Logan shut his mouth suddenly. Patton could see the wheels in his head turning.

“Oh. Oh, this is perfect! Serial killers are smart, you gotta wait for them to make a mistake.”

“Mistake? Logan, we don’t have time to wait!” Virgil sighed.

Logan ignored him, “Get to Cardiff, find Jennifer Wilson’s family and friends. Find Rachel!” He was running about on the ground level.

“Alright, alright! But what mistake?” Virgil called down.

“Pink!” And with that, Logan ran out of the building.


End file.
